


Movement

by galaxyofwomen



Category: Gentleman Jack (TV)
Genre: AU, Ann(e), Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Inspired by a Hozier Song, My First Work in This Fandom, POV First Person, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxyofwomen/pseuds/galaxyofwomen
Summary: Anne wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee and Ann listens to Hozier.
Relationships: Anne Lister (1791-1840)/Ann Walker (1803-1854)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Movement

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and this isn't betaed, so please ignore any mistakes (or maybe point them out, idk). Hope you enjoy.

I felt the empty bed before I opened my eyes. It caused my body to react automatically, my hands grabbing the sheets and my eyes snapping open. But just then I smelled it, the scent of fresh coffee, and my body relaxed, falling back into the bed and stretching itself without my permission. A chuckle scaped me with the thought of how used I was to waking up next to her, knowing I was too far gone, gone enough for my body to act without my orders, craving for her.

Holding on to that thought, I sighed and got out of bed, controling myself not to grab my watch from the nightstand and check what time was it. She hated when I did it so much that she was indeed forcing me to break the habit.

And it didn't matter what time was it, indeed. All that mattered was what I knew was expecting for me as soon as I stepped out of that room, who was expecting for me.

The house would be completely silent if wasn't for the sound of eggs frying on the frying pan, which led me straight to the kitchen.

I didn't storm in as I usually did, though, forcing myself to stop by the corridor doorway. If I did storm in, I would break the perfect scenario in front of me, and I wouldn't dare to do so.

She wore that old red oversized hoodie of hers I loved so much, barefeet. Her hands moved smoothly from a pan, to a plate, to a cup, to a pot of sugar - she knew what she was doing.

Putting the wildest strands of her loose hair behind her ear, she adjusted one of the white earphones in her ear, not caring to untangle the white thread that lost itself inside her hoodie's pocket.

Only then I realized she hmed very low, rhythmically. She smiled at herself as she poured coffee into a mug, her body slowly starting to move to the rhythm of the deep sounds her throat was making.

Soon her head was moving side to side and her tiny smile disappeared when she bit her lower lip. Her bare feet weren't just carrying her through the kitchen now, they were moving with the rest of her body, quietly swirling over the ankles and pressing against the floor with the tip of the toes.

She was lost in her little world, as free as she could be, not caring if whatever she had on the stove was going to burn, and I couldn't care less either. All I wanted was to be a part of that small bubble she was living in.

So, before I knew, my arms were holding her by her waist, my nose making its way through her strawberry scented hair, my lips reaching the base of her neck to place a gentle kiss there.

She wasn't startled for a single moment. I only felt her chest raise as she sighed and her free hand grab my arm, making sure it stayed in place, holding her, for she didn't for a second stop moving, forcing my body to move with hers.

The frying pan had been taken off of the stove and now the silence would be total if it wasn't for her breath and my heartbeat, which seemed to catch up with the rhythm our bodies moved in.

Swiftly, she turned in my arms, facing me. Her hands rested naturally against my chest as she smiled at me through her eyes. I believe the smile I gave in return was wider than the acceptable for someone who had just woke up, because I felt her chuckle against me when I did.

When I found her eyes again, she bit her lip like a child about to do something dangerous and forbidden. One of her hands left my chest and I instantly missed it dearly. But she didn't give me time to complain, quickly taking one of her earphones off and placing it in my own ear.

Suddenly, I was a part of her bubble.

Her eyes looked at me expectantly, as if asking me if I was hearing what she was hearing. In return, I only moved my body with more purpose, now that I was actually listening to the song she was dancing to.

She smiled widely and, tiptoeing, buried her head in the crock of my neck, her arms surrounding my neck and head, her calm breath dancing on my skin, our bodies ever in sync.

As the song hit its final notes, she sighed, still perfectly glued to me.

"Morning."

She whispered, causing me to shiver, goosebumps trailing down every inch of my skin. The song came to an end.

"Morning."

She tightened her hold on me and I did the same.

We were still dancing when the next song came up.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is always very welcome.


End file.
